(A/N)- The tumblr anon for this one basically wanted a scene where Archer was interrogated by Gilgamesh. I saw the opportunity for Archer snark and I ran with it.

Very crack. Much uncanon.

Disclaimer: Like I even need to say it.


Needling

"What kind of Servant lets himself get captured in broad daylight?" laughed Gilgamesh.

Archer shifted uncomfortably on his knees. His hands twisted idly in his binds.

"Just my luck I suppose," he muttered.

He had been running an errand for Rin. The household had run out of certain supplies—to his everlasting embarassment, certain feminine supplies—and as his Master was busy teaching his inept younger self the secrets of proper magecraft, and as Saber was utterly clueless about modern methods of personal female hygiene, he had been elected to go fetch them. He had protested only briefly and mildly, before an irate Rin threatened him with her command seals, and then had accepted his task with no small reluctance.

He had donned plain civilian clothing for the occasion, hoping to blend in unobtrusively with the populace.

Apparently that had not been enough to fool Lancer, whom Archer had run into lurking just outside the boundary field of the house on his way back.

The ensuing fight had cost him the groceries (Rin was not going to be happy about that) and his shirt (a pity really, it had been the only one he could find that had fit him), as Lancer's magic spear rent both of them over and over again until they were shredded, Archer just managing to defend himself against the onslaught. But during the battle the legendary Irish hero had said some rather interesting things, insinuating the presence of another Archer, a Master at the church, an insidious plot to summon the Grail before the true end of the war.

Keenly interested in this rather startling bit of news, Archer had considered his options and then came to an executive decision. Rin wouldn't be happy, but in the long run it would probably save her life—and the lives of Emiya and the rest.

So he'd surrendered, and allowed himself to be taken to the church.

…Though he was starting to regret that decision now.

The other Archer was a swaggering blonde peacock who'd wasted no time in announcing his identity as Gilgamesh, of the Mesopotamian epic. He had not stopped laughing since Archer had arrived.

"Ha!" he was crowing. "Your luck must be worse than even Lancer's!"

Standing off to the side, the Servant in question made a face at that. "Oy…" he said, indignant.

Gilgamesh sauntered over, one hand on his hip, red eyes scoffing down at Archer. "Now that I've captured you—"

"Hey, you didn't do anything. I was the one who caught him!" Lancer protested.

"Technically I surrendered," interjected Archer.

Gilgamesh waved that off. "Such miniscule details don't matter." His raised hand called forth a handful of silver chains, seemingly from nowhere, that wrapped themselves around Archer's torso and hauled him up off his feet. Gilgamesh sneered and said, "At any rate, perhaps, while we're waiting for my Master to return, we can learn the secret of your identity, Archer."

Archer's face twinged in discomfort as the chains pinched his skin, but was otherwise unruffled. "Just to warn you," he said, tone very calm and conversational, "you won't get anything out of me. I'm not very good entertainment."

Gilgamesh smirked. "We'll see about that."

-FSN-

Nearly half an hour later, however, Archer's words proved… frustratingly prophetic.

Gilgamesh had circled and questioned him a dozen times over now, and if Archer didn't reply with stubborn stony silence the answer he gave was short, brief, and entirely unhelpful.

For the question, "What is your heroic identity?":

"I don't remember."

Tightening the chains and accusing him of lying had yielded nothing further. Gilgamesh had mused aloud about the potential for Archer to have accquired brain damage during his summoning.

"Perhaps. My Master's summoning skills are amateurish at best. Don't let her hear you say that, though," Archer had joked.

That had earned him a knife to his shoulder from out of the Gate of Babylon (from what Archer surmised, a repository of countless weapons Gilgamesh could summon at his whim).

For the question: "What is your Noble Phantasm?"

"Ask Lancer."

Gilgamesh had turned to Lancer and barked, "Lancer! What did this mongrel have at his disposal?"

Lancer had replied surlishly, "I don't know. He had two curved blades, one black, one white. And he had a barrier that could repell Gae Bolg."

Gilgamesh had turned a suspicious eye on Archer. "I thought you were supposed to be Archer class. What kind of Archer primarily uses swords?"

"I could ask you the same," Archer replied, nodding towards the dozens of hilts floating in midair behind Gilgamesh, who promptly used one to smack him across the face.

For any and all questions pertaining to Rin, Saber, Shirou, or the house:

Silence.

Which of course eventually earned him another blade to the gut.

Archer coughed a mouthful of blood onto the floor. At this rate the jeans he'd borrowed from Shirou were pretty much ruined. Archer could already hear his younger self whining up a storm about it.

He really needed to get back home to resume smacking some sense into that kid.

"Heh," he chuckled, looking up from the blood trickling down his chest. "That almost hurt that time."

Gilgamesh made a face at the display, as if the very sight of Archer bleeding was offensive to him.

"Clean that up," he told Lancer, gesturing towards the sticky pool rapidly forming on the floor underneath the Servant.

Lancer gave Gilgamesh the biggest stink-eye he could manage. "You don't give the orders around here," he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Of course I do. I'm a King," Gilgamesh dismissed.

Lancer grumbled, but obediantly pulled the short sword out of Archer's body and then went to get a mop.

Gilgamesh turned a surly gaze back on his captive. Archer's lack of concern about his predicament confused and annoyed him. He was rapidly running out of patience. "I'm growing tired of this, Mongrel," he growled. "Tell me already: What is your Noble Phantasm?"

Archer shifted idly in the chains. "Why don't you bring your Noble Phantasms out of that Gate of yours and show them to me one at a time and I'll tell you yes or no?"

"You insolent little-!" Gilgamesh twitched and tensed as he reigned himself in, his fingers curling in aggravation. If Kotomine had not given him explicit instructions not to kill any of the other Servants or Masters—yet—the King of Heroes would have already filled Archer with holes.

His irritation was not helped by Archer's flat, "You're boring me."

Gilgamesh's eyes flashed with anger. "You are trying my patience, Mongrel. Perhaps you were unaware, but it is not considered wise to make me—"

Archer had the audacity to yawn in the middle of his sentance.

Incensed, Gilgamesh raised his fist, tightening the Chains of Heaven. Archer grimaced in discomfort, but seemed otherwise unimpressed, despite the fact that the breath was being squeezed out of him and he had to have cracked a few ribs by now.

"Is that… all you've got… King of Heroes?" he managed to get out, smirking cheekily. "Rin can squeeze harder than you."

Seething, Gilgamesh entertained the thought of peeling Archer's skin off for several moments. "Lancer!" he shouted.

Lancer had just returned from fetching the cleaning supplies and looked none too happy at being barked at again. "What?" he griped.

"The fireplace upstairs has iron pokers right?"

The Irishman raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Bring me one. I need to burn the smirk off this guy's face," Gilgamesh said through his teeth, glaring at Archer.

"What am I, your Servant?" Lancer complained. "I don't recall accepting a contract with you. Just because you're Kotomine's favorite doesn't mean you're allowed to boss me around."

"I can order you as I wish. I am the King of Heroes," Gilgamesh sniped back. "You should be grateful just to be in my presence."

"I'll be grateful when I'm out of your presence!"

"If you two are done arguing like an old married couple—" Archer interjected.

Though Gilgamesh had gotten nothing out of him, Archer had been gathering plenty, simply by listening and observing. He now knew that Kirei Kotomine, the supposedly neutral mediator of the Grail War, was both Lancer and Gilgamesh's Master (how that worked he couldn't figure yet), and that he was covertly gathering intelligence on the other Masters. Lancer was resentful about the whole situation, which meant he could be reasoned with and brought to their side, with some convincing.

Oh, and Gilgamesh was basically a massive prick with a god-complex and the power to match but that went without saying.

The King of Heroes had simmered down a bit. He picked up a wineglass from a table and took a sip from it. "Let's try asking some different questions. I warn you, this is your last chance to be reasonable before I turn you into my new favorite pincushion." He set the wineglass back down, licking his lips with a suspicious leer. "You seem unusually familiar with Saber," he began. "What is your relationship to her?"

Archer wasn't surprised at the question. There had been a certain fixation in Gilgamesh's words and expressions on Saber. He'd noticed how the man's vocal inflection changed as he spoke her name, and how he'd seemed keen on knowing more about her specifically. The predatory glint in Gilgamesh's eyes told him all he needed to know about the motives behind the interest.

So he replied flatly: "We had intimate coital relations in the bathhouse of the Emiya residence."

Gilgamesh lost it. "YOU LOW-LIFE BASTARD SON OF A BITCH!" he screeched, his eyes bugging out with apoplectic fury. His arms flailed with his anger and outrage, as he bellowed at full volume. "YOU WOULD DARE TOUCH THE KING'S TREASURES AND DEFOUL THEM WITH YOUR FILTHY TOUCH?!" he yelled.

"No," chuckled Archer, grinning to himself. "But the look on your face was priceless."

"MONGREL!" Gilgamesh howled, priming the Gate of Babylon to fill Archer with a thousand bladed weapons.

Of course that was when Archer unleashed a hail of copies of the swords in the Gate visible to him. Taken off-guard, Gilgamesh stumbled back, his barrage interrupted, and inadvertedly loosened the Chains of Heaven.

It was just enough for Archer to slip free. He dematerialized into spirit form at once and, laughing, made his way out. Gilgamesh spewed curses and weapons after him. Lancer made a half-hearted show of stabbing the air in Archer's general direction, but was too busy chuckling at Gilgamesh's expense to really do anything to prevent Archer's escape.

Archer hastened from the churchgrounds as quickly as he could, holding a hand to his sore ribs and the cut in his diaphragm. He was still bleeding and sore, but he'd learned what he'd come to learn.

Now all that was left was to face Rin and with his warning hopefully earn her mercy for his failed mission.

He supposed he should also return Shirou's pants, though the boy probably wouldn't want them back now.

Though it's not like he has room to complain, thought Archer, musing on all the clothes Shirou had ruined via bloodstained wounds.

He really was an idiot.


(A/N)- Trollololo. XD